


All My Stars

by hyacinthclare



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinthclare/pseuds/hyacinthclare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He  had felt so adrift here for so long, at this scrap of land at the edge of the sea."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All I Can Do Is to Follow

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This turned into more of a Hewlett character study than I originally intended, but oh well, the world needs more Anna/Hewlett fic so here we are.

If she were any other woman, Major Hewlett would have expected Anna to faint, or at least cry, after being confronted by such a beast as Captain Simcoe. But of course, she was no ordinary woman, so as much as he admired her steely composure, it was no surprise to him. She collected her things from the tavern in short order, packing with great economy of movement, and he barely had time to catch his breath before a private was carrying her trunk down the stairs to be loaded on a cart bound for Whitehall. Now that the task was done, Anna seemed to pause for the first time since their hasty departure from the square. "Major Hewlett," she caught his forearm before he could follow the private downstairs.

"I must apologize. I didn't mean to impose—I'm very grateful to you for playing along with the bluff, but I can make other arrangements. The Woodhulls surely—"

"Certainly not," Hewlett interrupted gently. "Out of the question. The Woodhulls will surely welcome you warmly; they would not wish to see you in harm's way."

Anna offered up a weak smile, but her brown eyes were still troubled. Impulsively, he pressed her hand in his.

"Don't worry," he assured her. "You're safe as long as I'm near."

Her pinched brow relaxed by degrees and she brushed her thumb across his fingers.

"I know," she nodded, regaining her usual pluck. "Thank you, Edmund."

With some difficulty, he released her hand, offering his arm instead.

"Allow me to escort you home, then."

* * *

 

Riding ahead of the cart on the road to Whitehall, Hewlett had to resist the urge to turn his eyes back to Anna with every stride. He focused on the clatter of the wheels over the dirt road and took some comfort in the sound, knowing Anna was perched there, following him to a safer harbor. Filled with ire as he was at the idea of John Simcoe running loose in Setauket, Hewlett felt his chest swell with the thought of being Anna's protector, of having the power to be a comfort to her as well as an ally. He had to admit that her importance to him seemed to grow at an alarming rate.

He had felt so adrift here for so long, on this scrap of land at the edge of the sea, with nothing to anchor him but his duty to King and Country. The sea seemed to linger eternally at the corner of his eye, a constant reminder that his home was far across its churning, tempermental waters. What he wouldn't give for another day in the heart of England—riding across the fields of Derbyshire, where the air didn't taste of saltwater. But his duty brought him to Setauket, so in Setauket he remained.

Hewlett stole a glance over his shoulder as the road curved. Anna was staring out towards the sea, but as though she felt his gaze, she turned her eyes on him, lifting a hand to shield them from the sun.

"Nearly there!" he called. She nodded with a small smile; he was glad to notice that the color had returned to her cheeks.

Perhaps that was the root of his attachment to Anna Strong—he observed in her the same fierce sense of honor that was his mainstay. She, too, had sacrificed her old life for honor and loyalty. But what began as a simple admiration of her character had quickly turned into a much deeper attachment. He had no expectation of reciprocation, no illusions regarding his bumbling, awkward nature and its effect on women—and yet, he couldn't help hoping—

His thoughts were interrupted as he was hailed by Whitehall's grooms running out from the stables. The cart groaned to a halt behind him as he jumped from his saddle, handing his reins to a stableboy and leaving his horse with an affectionate pat. He stepped over to the cart, offering a hand to help Anna step down.

"Major," she said, glancing up at the sky as she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, "will it be a clear enough night for your telescope?"

"I—well—" he stammered, his heart suddenly hammering in a most inconvenient manner. "I should think so."

"Good," she smiled and started towards the house.

Hewlett peered into the clear blue above them, trailing behind her.

"Yes—I should think so—quite clear."


	2. Turn Off the Moon, Do It Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've been working on a star chart."

Anna had never endured a dinner so tense as the one that evening at Whitehall. Major Hewlett had explained the circumstances to Judge Woodhull, who could hardly refuse her refuge without awkward elucidations. Catching the judge’s stony eyes on her, Anna gripped her knife and fork a little tighter; she wished she could tell him it was hardly an ideal situation for her either. But the thought of Simcoe creeping around the tavern brought bile to her throat, so she bit her tongue. Major Hewlett proved to be skilled at filling the uncomfortable silences of the evening—a skill developed in the English drawing rooms of his youth, perhaps. Anna was grateful for his steady, distracting conversation and the tiny, encouraging smiles he sprouted whenever he caught her eye with a sidelong glance. She could not deny the loneliness of her situation, and it was a comfort to have a friend again— _if only he weren’t the enemy,_ she reminded herself for the hundredth time.

After supper, she eagerly took up the Major’s invitation for another turn at the telescope, relieved to escape the stifling tension of the house. Pulling her shawl tight about her shoulders against the November chill, Anna followed Hewlett across the dark lawn, her skirts catching softly on the dry grass.

“I was going to show you—I’ve been working on a star chart,” Hewlett was saying as they reached the outlook where his telescope had been stationed.

Anna tilted her head up at the sky as Hewlett carefully hooked his lantern to a fencepost. She wondered if that great, glittering expanse could swallow her up, and if she would even mind the stillness—but there was Hewlett at her elbow, leafing through a notebook.

“Ah—no, that’s not it,” he muttered at the pages. Anna glanced down at the book and caught a glimpse of a sketch.

“What’s that?” she interrupted his search, catching the corner of the page between her thumb and forefinger. A closer look brought a rendering of the harbor into focus. “I didn’t know you were an artist as well as an astronomer.”

She looked up at him with a smile. The poor man stood frozen, blushing faintly and keeping a tight grasp on the book.

“May I?” she nodded slightly at the page.

“Oh—I—if you promise not to laugh,” he eased the book from her fingers and carefully tore the page from the binding and presented it to her gingerly, “you may keep it. Only you mustn’t ask to see any further examples of my artistic endeavors, if I can call them such, for I’m a very poor artist, it’s just a simple diversion, really—”

“Thank you,” Anna put a stop to his rambling, angling the page so she could examine it by the flickering lantern. The image was a familiar scene to her, boats bobbing beside the pier as a gull wandered across the sky. It was a simple sketch, but an earnest one, and Anna found that it tugged at her curiously—it reminded her of more innocent times, when Setauket still felt like home.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she told him. “You’re a man of many talents.”

Hewlett scoffed and shook his head dismissively. Anna wondered at his flustered embarrassment—she had first known him as a stern, cold, even ruthless man, but now he seemed to be another creature entirely—sensitive, affectionate, and lonely as she was. But any solace she might have found in this discovery was tempered by the weight of her own secrets, and the knowledge that just one of them could break his heart. She put a hand on his arm, his sleeve warm against her cold palm.

“I shall treasure this, Edmund, truly.”

He smiled shyly, glancing briefly at her hand before turning his attention back to his notebook.

“Ah, here we are,” he finally showed her the star chart, unfinished but clearly painstakingly drafted. “I’ve only done Perseus so far—are you familiar with the story of Perseus?”


	3. Come Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were no regulars running to the rescue, only dark windows staring back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone for the lovely comments, you are all so sweet! So here’s my gift to you: a very brief and depressing chapter! This is developing into a series of imagined deleted scenes so unfortunately the timeline is progressing and things are getting difficult for Hewlett. Now that everyone’s pumped up, let’s do this.

Hewlett had always counted himself lucky for the fact that he had never experienced true fear. He had known the frightening rush of combat, blood pounding in his ears and death rattling through each blast of gunfire. But that kind of fear had always been strangely exhilarating, for even if it left him shaken, he had always survived it; there was none of the arresting, chilling dread of true terror. This night, with his hands bound at the wrists as some soggy rag was wrenched between his teeth, Edmund Hewlett knew his luck had run out.

He wanted it to be a nightmare—he willed himself to wake, to find himself in his bed, the fire burning low and Anna surely sleeping down the hall, safe and sound. He had made her laugh that evening, over the harpsichord _—“Astronomy, art, and music?”_ She had peered at the sheet music over his shoulder. “You’re beginning to make me feel quite inadequate, Major.”

“You could never be that.” When she laughed, her eyes had been warm and relaxed for the first time in days—she had finally felt _safe_ —

Hewlett struggled to break free, to run, but two men were dragging him across the grass by his elbows, and at least half a dozen more surrounded them, rifles at the ready. Before he could get his bearings and make any proper effort to escape, he was thrown roughly into a boat, his shoulder colliding painfully with the hard wood. He quickly straightened himself and cast a desperate glance at Whitehall, but there were no regulars running to the rescue, only dark windows staring back at him. Panic seared through him, cutting to the quick—would he even live to see the morning?

He screamed ineffectually through the gag for help that was not coming, kicking wildly at his captors only to be repaid with a blow to the stomach.

“Would you rather swim across the Sound, Major? Try that again and you’ll get the chance.”

The man gave him another savage kick; this one landed on his spine and sent a shock of pain through his bones. His breaths were coming in too fast, too shallow, the cold air sharp in his lungs with each ragged gasp. Blood rushed dizzyingly to his head, Anna’s screams ringing in his ears—Hewlett focused on her face, trying to calm his heart, to get his wits about him. The rebels were taking him across the Sound, probably to the very camp he had shown Anna through his telescope. There was hardly any distance between them, and yet he might never see her again.

An unwarranted blow was delivered to the base of his skull and he choked his protest into the gag. Reeling, he twisted his head to face the sky. The stars were spinning—he was going to faint—and he didn’t even know if she was safe.


	4. Dark Runs Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was strange--damned ironic, Brewster would have said--but it was for the major's safety she feared the most.

Anna had not truly expected to find anything, but all the same, it was a bitter disappointment to find the dead drop empty once again. Cursing under her breath, she shoved the box back into its hiding spot. With a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure no one was lurking in the trees, she started the long walk back to town. Luckily, she had encountered no one all morning as she crossed the fields and crept through the woods. The morning was grey and still; the falling snow gathered quietly on the bare trees and stuck to her eyelashes. It was almost peaceful, but Anna took little comfort in it. Her hands were stinging from the cold and her heart throbbed painfully, as though some invisible fist clenched it tight—but it was a familiar sensation to her these days. She checked the dead drop as often as she dared, but it felt increasingly futile, for each time, she found nothing—no response from Ben and Caleb; no instructions, no plan, no promise for action. She was rudderless and friendless with no word from Connecticut, Abe in prison, and Major Hewlett—what fate had befallen him, she could only imagine.

It was strange—damned ironic, Brewster would have said—but it was for the major’s safety that she feared the most. She worried about Abe, of course, but at least she knew for certain he was alive, and it was easier to set that fear aside. It was Hewlett who crossed her thoughts fluidly and frequently, his bloodied face flashing in her mind. Surely they would not have killed him, she told herself over and over—he was too valuable, and the rebels were not savages. But she had repeated that litany for weeks now, and it was becoming difficult to convince herself.

The town was slowly stirring by the time she reached the tavern. Anna quickly smoothed her hair and traded her cloak for an apron, bracing herself for another monotonous day. It felt so useless to go on with pouring ale, clearing tables, and scrubbing floors, but she had no alternative. All she could do was play her part here and wait. The afternoon was creeping along when Captain Wakefield and a handful of officers entered, stomping the snow from their boots before they looked for a table. Anna seethed at the thought of them idling here while the major was held captive and it was in their power to rescue him.

"Good afternoon, Captain," she caught Wakefield’s attention, pouring his drink.

“Mrs. Strong,” he nodded politely, moving to take the ale and make a hasty retreat, but Anna kept her grip on the cup, stalling him.

“Any news of Major Hewlett?” Captain Wakefield sighed wearily. Anna stuck out her chin.

“As I have told you before, my orders are to remain in Setauket and defend the garrison, so unless you now receive military intelligence and have other instructions for me—”

“I’m aware of your dedication to your duty, Captain,” Anna interrupted sharply. “What about Major Hewlett? Do you even know if he is still alive?”

Wakefield shrugged and pulled the cup from her grasp.

“One can only hope.”

He gave her a cursory bow and retreated to the table where his comrades had settled. Laughter burst from the group; Anna supposed her persistence was the source of their amusement. She only clenched her jaw and turned to scrub the countertop furiously. Wakefield’s exasperated condescension would not deter her. She could not set sail across the Sound herself, but even with all of her resources exhausted, she could continue to needle the captain.

Over the past weeks, Anna had taken some comfort in the fact that she had done everything she could to save Hewlett and Abe, that now it was out of her hands. But now even that cold comfort was shaken; her conversation with Mary the day before had unsettled her. She told herself that she had done everything in her power, but there was a steady drumbeat in the back of her mind that asked, _have you?_ Her eyes fell on the corner of the tavern she had been avoiding all afternoon, where Simcoe sat, silent and expressionless. His gaze was not on her, but still it felt as though he were watching her.

She shuddered, but all the same she had to admit that there was still one recourse left to her. Anna had only known Edmund Hewlett a short time, but something told her that had she been the one dragged off into the dark, he would have stopped at nothing to find her. She was not sure if she could say that of any other person.

Anna swallowed hard. She was overcome with the sensation that she was treading water, barely keeping her chin above the rising tide. And the worst of it was, she missed him.


	5. Just Carry Me Slow Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late as it was, and despite the protests of his every muscle and bone, he was glad he had not waited until morning to find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been leaving these lovely comments! It makes my day whenever I read one. I cannot get enough of these two so here's another little imaginary deleted scene.

Hewlett had been relieved to stumble across Robeson at the water’s edge, relieved to set foot in Setauket again, and relieved to find himself in a proper bed, a roof over him and a fire in the hearth. But the tightness in his chest did not truly ease until Anna stood in the foyer of Whitehall. He struggled to take his eyes off her, watching as Aberdeen took the cloak from her shoulders, half afraid she would disappear if he so much as blinked. Late as it was, and despite the protests of his every muscle and bone, he was glad he had not waited until the morning to find her. 

“We’ll put you in your old room, Anna,” Mary was saying, watching with a hand on the bannister as Anna’s trunk was carried upstairs. Richard had retired before their arrival—Hewlett had sensed his friend’s resistance to Anna’s return, but that conversation could keep. Mary, at least, received them with the bustling efficiency of a mother hen. 

Hewlett glanced at Anna again. Her cheeks were red from the cold night air; she pressed her hands against her skin to draw out the chill. She had eagerly departed the tavern, and on the short journey home, her shoulder bumping against his in the cart, she had had the look of a bird let out of a cage. But now that she was here, he saw a certain uneasiness in her clasped hands as she hovered, tentative, near the threshold. He caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile, beckoning her with a tilt of his head. Letting out a breath, she stepped closer.

“Major, will you be able to manage the stairs?” Mary, one arm outstretched, ready to catch him, cast a worried look at his feet.

“I shall, Mrs. Woodhull,” he assured her, even though his maimed foot throbbed painfully. “Please, don’t let us keep you up any longer—you need your rest as well.”

“It is no trouble, truly,” Mary said. “But I should look in on Thomas, if you have everything you need.”

His eyes darted to Anna. She gave a small nod.

“Indeed we do,” Hewlett answered, his eyes only slowly finding their way back to Mary.

“I will say goodnight, then,” Mary glanced between them, taking a candle from the hall table before she headed upstairs. Anna and Hewlett murmured their replies, but neither moved to follow her. Hewlett watched the light from Mary’s candle disappear down the hall. When he finally looked back at Anna, he found, not for the first time that night, that her eyes were fixed on him.

His heart caught in his throat. Her face, soft in the dim light, suddenly stunned him. It was her face that he had held in his mind through all the horrors of the past month, and he had prayed that no harm would come to her just as fiercely as he prayed for salvation. His relief at the nearness of her was overwhelming after being so lost, in the freezing dark, with nothing but her face and the stars to steer by.   
“Are you sure you can manage the stairs?” Anna asked him. “You must be exhausted.”

He was not so sure now that he could move, let alone drag himself upstairs—all the strength he had managed in front of the Woodhulls and his men and that devil Simcoe was drained from him. His eyes were full of tears before he could form an answer and he found he could only gasp for air, his lungs failing him.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Her hands landed softly on his chest, her worried eyes searching his face. 

“You’re safe.” He took her face in his hands, carefully, terrified that she might vanish, that he would awaken on frozen ground with the unforgiving dawn chasing away this dream. “You’re safe.”

“I am.” Her hands curled over his. “I’m safe, Edmund.”

Gradually, his lungs settled into a comfortable rhythm and his racing heart slowed as Anna waited, patient. Finally she drew his hands away from her face, but she kept them gently cradled in hers. 

“You should rest,” she told him. 

He nodded his assent and allowed her to lead him towards the stairs, but his foot failed him at the first step. He gasped sharply, but Anna caught his arm.

“Here, lean on me.”


	6. Look Around (Look Around)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love was such an inconvenient word, especially when applied to a man who stood on the other side of this war in which she found herself tangled and torn apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. This actually will be the last installment of this series – thank you again for all the lovely comments! Let’s hope we get a lot more of these two together next season.

A good night’s sleep was becoming hard to come by—one more thing that fell on the other side of the line between her old life and the world now. Her father would have told her it was a guilty conscience that woke her in a sweat before dawn, that left her stomach in knots from nightmares she could only half remember. Anna slipped from her bed and padded barefoot across the cold floor to peer out the window. There was only a sliver of light on the horizon, but the birds were starting to stir and sounds out across the bay.

She dressed quickly, not bothering to pull her hair from its braid before wrapping herself in a shawl and stealing silently from the house. Nothing seemed to clear her head like the morning air, cold with the fading traces of winter, sharp in her lungs. She crossed the lawn slowly as the light crept over the edge of the sea. She caught herself in her own lie—there was another source of comfort, though she was reluctant to admit it. Incongruous as it was, Hewlett’s friendship steadied her in this shifting, dangerous world.

Still, she did not know what to make of it. She stepped onto the outlook next to Hewlett’s telescope, her hand falling fondly on the object as Abe’s words pulsed in her mind— _hidden love_ , love was such an inconvenient word, especially when applied to a man who stood on the other side of this war in which she found herself tangled and torn apart. And yet—

“You’re up early.”

Anna jumped. One hand over her racing heart, she turned to find Hewlett approaching.

“I’m sorry,” he hesitated, a foot on the step below her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” “

Not at all,” she smiled, glad to see him despite herself. “I didn’t think anyone else would be awake at this hour.”

“Nor did I—couldn’t you sleep?” he asked, concern knitting his brow as he stepped to her side.

Anna shook her head. “Couldn’t you?”

“I confess,” he sighed, “I am made too anxious by recent events.”

He could never know how deeply she felt that same disquiet, how it had rooted in her. If he ever knew the whole truth of her—again Abe’s words stirred in the back of her mind— _what changed for you?_

“Still, I have faith that order will be restored before long,” Hewlett was saying, his eyes narrowed as he watched the seagulls passing overhead. He was too earnest for his own good. She had changed, she may have lost her old self to these dark days, but Hewlett seemed to bind himself tighter in his honor and his hope. It was a feat she envied.

Anna was almost as surprised as Edmund himself when she slipped her hand into his. He looked down at her hand as it curled around his with an expression of wonder on his face that made her breath stick in her ribs. He tightened his fingers around hers.

“I hope you’re right.”


End file.
